


This Used To Just Be My Bed

by soprano193



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:59:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soprano193/pseuds/soprano193
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Late Night companion, from Pete's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Not it._ Pete thought to himself as he listened to the cries of his daughter on the baby monitor.  It wasn’t his turn, and he didn’t want to leave the bed.  It was hot and sticky so he didn’t want to move.  After a few seconds, he felt Myka pull herself out of bed and quietly leave the room. 

A few years ago, if asked, he never would have imagined his life would be this great.  He never thought Myka would fall for him, let alone have his child.  But like always, she pulled through during the most difficult time of his life, and he just knew it would all be okay.  It was as if it was destiny, that his world would fall apart until they were together, and once they got together, it was all good again.  Suddenly the Warehouse really wasn’t moving, and his sister came back into his life, and the most beautiful woman in the world was in love with him.  And she loved all of him, from his dorky smile, his weird array of interests, his immature jokes and boyish charm.  And life had never been better. 

He heard his girls interacting over the baby monitor, and smiled, his heart swelling as he listened to Myka talk to their daughter.  She had been so uncertain about being a mother, so scared she would screw up, but had taken to it like a duck to water.  That baby could make her light up faster than Pete had ever been able to accomplish.  And they looked so alike, it was uncanny, although Myka didn’t see it. 

_“Trust me, in a few years, it will be like looking in a mirror.” It was the first time since Myka had given birth that they had been truly alone with their daughter.  She had a lot of curly brown hair, and the one time she opened her eyes, he could see they mirrored his._

_Myka shook her head.  “Did you see those eyes, Pete? Those eyes are all you.” She stroked the baby’s head tenderly, a smile on her face.  “So mischievous.” She grinned up at him._

_Pete shook his head.  “There is more to her than just eyes, Mykes.  She’s got my eyes, but your face.  Just trust me.” She had nodded, not convinced, and Pete had dropped the subject, knowing he would be proven correct in a few months or years._

“Imogen Rose Lattimer, you have a stinky bum!” Myka’s voice over the monitor had snapped him to the present.  He heard his daughter giggle, and smiled.  That name had taken so long to agree on.  He was fine with using a name from one of Shakespeare’s works, and even managed to persuade Myka to do a first name, rather than a middle name.  Ophelia was so beautiful, and that’s what Pete called Myka when he wanted to see her smile.  Plus, he had always loved the name Juliet.  He had been surprised when Myka vetoed it, calling it to cliché.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t a fan of many other Shakespearian girl names.  In the end, after months of arguing, they had agreed on Imogen.  It was not too out there, and different.  Myka was a fan of different names, he had discovered.  It was understandable, growing up with a name like Myka, one you didn’t here every day.  They rarely called her Imogen though.  Claudia had shortened it to Ginny, and that tended to be what stuck. 

Pete listened to his daughter chatter with her mother, and Myka answer her back softly, trying not to rile her up.  It was late, and he was supposed to be sleeping. That was the whole point of taking turns.  He started to rouse himself to join them, when he heard his wife’s voice clear as day.  “Do you want to come eat in Mumma and Daddy's bed?”

 _Shit!_ Pete knew that if she knew he’d been up this whole time, she’d be pissed he didn’t come help, even though it wasn’t technically his turn.  He climbed back into bed just as he heard his door open.  He felt cool relief when she flipped on the box fan nearest the bed, and watched through mostly closed eyes as she hopped into bed with their fifteen month old daughter.  He watched the restless Ginny pulling at Myka’s top, whining as she tried to move the fabric out of her way.  Myka took her time, settling herself before she pulled out her breast, offering it to Ginny, who gladly took it and settled down.  Myka seemed to fall back asleep immediately, and Pete watched freely for a moment, eyes wide open.  His girls, lying in bed with him.  Nope, life couldn’t get any better than this.  He watched them silently for a moment before closing his own eyes again, drifting off to sleep. 

He woke when he heard a strange sound coming from next to him.  He could feel the small body that had rolled closer to him.  He kept his eyes closed, maybe it was a fluke, and he could go back to sleep. 

“Dada!” His daughter was practically yelling.  He knew he had to respond, if he didn’t she would just keep trying.  He opened one eye, glancing over at his wife, who shot him a sympathetic look.  He grinned, reaching out to stroke Ginny’s curls.  “How are my girls?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep.  He was sure he looked worse for wear. 

Myka didn’t answer him.  Instead, she laughed quietly, a small crooked smile stretching across her lips. "She is such a daddy's girl." Pete looked down at his daughter, whose eyes were beginning to close as he played with her curls. 

"I'm telling you, when you are gone, I swear she calls for you." Pete responded.  It was true, Ginny called and cried for Myka when she was gone, working on inventory or on one of those rare missions when she and Pete were split up.  It broke his heart a bit when Ginny did it, because he wasn’t what she needed at that moment, and there was nothing he could do to fix that for her. 

"Yeah, but look who she's turned to now that she's gotten everything she can from me." Myka pointed at the toddler, whose eyes were closed, and her mouth hung open.  She had rolled closer to Pete as he stroked her. 

"Yeah, I know." He answered. He grinned at Myka, making her smile. 

Myka stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Yeah, she likes you so much, you can be the one who wakes up to her. No more taking turns!" She joked.

Pete laughed. "She likes me now. Just give it a few years. Soon she'll be curled up in your lap reading whatever Shakespeare play you have or War of the Worlds or something, learning a new language, and she'll have no use for me."  He was convinced that Ginny would grow up smarter than him.  Who wouldn’t, with a mother like Myka to stimulate her development every step of the way? 

"You know another language! And we have been using it with her." Myka protested, and Pete had to agree.  They had been teaching Ginny some signs, making it easier for her to communicate with them.  Pete also thought it would be important for her to know so she could communicate with her Jeannie easier.  He knew that reading lips wasn’t always easy, and Ginny having a relationship with everyone in his family was important to him.   

Pete sighed. "If she learns it now, when she gets older, she will want to learn a different language from you. Therefore your argument is invalid, and we still need to take turns."

Myka smiled and shook her head, snuggling closer to the two other bodies in the bed.  Pete dropped the argument, placing a gentle kiss to the top of his wife’s head, watching her do the same to their daughter.  Soon, her breathing slowed, and she was fast asleep.  Pete placed his hand on the belly of the sleeping toddler, who was well on her way to taking over the bed.  _This used to just be my bed.  I like it better this way._ He closed his eyes, listened to the breathing of the two most important women in his world, and let sleep overtake him. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Pete has always hated the cold. He has never understood the appeal of the snow, the way it freezes you to your bones, how you need to pile under four blankets and wear two pairs of socks just to feel normal again. But today, playing out in the snow with Ginny and Myka, building snowmen and making snow angels, Pete has had the time of his life. 

Pete felt his wife move in closer, her chest against his back, and he grinned. He loved being that close to her.  He turned his head, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Close enough yet?" He grinned, feeling her shift closer still. 

"Nope." He heard her answer innocently. "We are cold, and you're keeping us warm." At that, he broke into a smile so wide, he thought it would fall off his face. She was a buttering him up, and she knew it. 

He turned onto his back, stretching his arm around her and pulling her close. She rested her head on his chest, her wild curls falling all over his torso. He loved her curls, and he loved them on their daughter. He placed his other hand on her flat stomach, and wondered if the one in there would have curls too. Her stomach was still flat now, but he remembered how big she got when she was pregnant with Ginny, and he never had seen her look so sexy.  He wondered if this one would move as much as Ginny did. He wondered if this one would be as much of a Myka clone, not that he would complain if it was, but he kind of wanted at least one of his children to look like him. "You know, I never get tired of hearing you talk like that." He told her, his hand rubbing circles on her exposed skin. 

"And I don't get tired of saying it." She replied. Pete felt the muscles of her face pull toward the corners of her mouth, and he smiled with her. The hand that was around her back found one of her curls, and he absentmindedly wrapped it around his finger again and again.  He couldn't be more excited to be a father again. It was one of those things he was apprehensive about at first, because his father figure had been taken from him and he wasn't sure he had a good role model. But after holding Ginny in his arms, those fears all washed away. He couldn't wait to tell Ginny she was going to be a big sister.

"What's on your mind?" His wife's voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present moment. 

"When are we telling Ginny?" He was thinking a lot of things, that was just what was on his mind when she asked. She was silent for a while, thinking things over. Pete could almost see the gears in her head turning, even though he couldn't see most of her face.  

He felt her shoulders lift up toward her head. "Let me do some more research, and I'll let you know." Pete couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped from him without permission. It was such a Myka answer, in the fact that it wasn't an answer, but something she had to research. When he stopped laughing, she spoke again. "Have you thought of any names?"

He smirked. "Is Juliet back on the table?" He wasn't prepared for the smack. She connected with his chest, and it sounded like it hurt more than it did. He laughed, removing his hand from his abdomen and rubbing it on his chest, feigning pain. 

"No. I don't want a daughter named Juliet. Not even for a middle name." She was quiet for a minute. "I think I want to stick to Shakespearean names for middle names, I'm not really a fan of them as first names." Her voice was quiet and inquisitive. Pete had to agree with her. Ginny got lucky with a name like Imogen, there weren't many other names that were easy to pull off. 

He nodded, letting her know it was okay. "Sounds okay to me. What names are there, other than Juliet?" 

"Well, there's Bianca, Katherina, Viola, Isabella and Miranda." She always impressed him, especially when she rattled things off like this as if they were things everyone knew. She pulled the names out of her head in a minute. 

"Not Miranda, that's my niece’s name." He said flatly. 

"And Viola is Tracy's middle name, but I don't see why we can't still use it if we like it." She responded. He understood exactly why she didn't want any of those options as first names. They both hated Bianca, Myka had vetoed Katherina when they were talking about Ginny's name (something about the character that she hated and couldn't disconnect from the name), and although they could use Viola, it made their potential baby girl sound like an old lady. Isabella was beautiful, but all Pete could think of was those awful twilight books, and he didn't want to seem like he was jumping on that bandwagon. So he nodded, agreeing on a Shakespearean middle name. 

What they hadn't talked about was boy names. Pete was worried, that the name they talked about last time was off the table.  "What about boy names?" Pete tried to seem nonchalant, like he didn't care about the name. 

"We already have a boy name picked out." She answered, sounding concerned. 

Pete didn't want to push if she wasn't actually on board. "Are you still okay with that? Have you figured a middle name out for that yet?" He asked hesitantly. 

She pulled her head up to look in his eyes. Hers shone with appreciation. "Of course I am okay with naming a boy after your father, Pete. You don't have to ask." He could see it in her eyes, she meant it, and it meant the world to him. He hugged her tighter to him, and she placed her head back on his chest, wiggling closer to him until she found that sweet spot on his chest where her head would rest. "I don't have a middle name picked yet, but I have a few contenders." She answered his second question quickly. He listened to her breathing slow and watched her eyelids flutter as she started to drift off to sleep. 

He startled when she looked towards the door, where their four year old was whimpering, rubbing her eyes, her curls sticking up all over her head. "Mumma? Daddy? Are you awake?" She whispered, her breath hitching. "I had a bad dream." 

Myka sat up, stretching out her arms. "I am awake baby girl. Why don't you come up here with me and Daddy and tell us all about your dream." Ginny nodded, her curls shaking even more out of place, and Pete had to stifle a giggle. 

Myka helped Ginny up on to the bed. She placed the little girl in between them, and Pete wrapped his arms around her tiny frame protectively. He couldn't protect her in her dreams, but he could make sure she knew he was there for her. She faced Myka. "Some scary men kidnapped me." Her voice was small and it wavered.  Pete kissed the top of her head.

Myka moved closer, looking straight into Ginny's eyes, making sure Ginny knew that she wasn't going anywhere. "They did? Where did they take you?" She asked, prompting Ginny to continue.

"A big castle. And they told me I had to live there, and I would never see you again." She pouted. "I was sad. Castles are cool, but only if you and Daddy are there with me."

Pete stoked her hair. "You know, Mumma and I would always come looking for you. Aunt Claude would hack all the world's security cameras and use facial recognition software to find where you were and when you were there last." He could see her at the computer now, tapping away while Pete paced behind her like a caged tiger. "We would track you and save you so fast you wouldn't even notice you were gone." He smiled,  thinking of a sure fire way to cheer up the precious child pressed up against him. "Just think, Ginny. If you weren't home, who would I tickle?" He launched an all-out attack, his heart soaring at the sound of her gleeful squeals. He was relieved when Myka joined in, any concerns he had about getting a lecture about the late hour disappeared. 

They slowly settled back down again. Ginny turned her head to look at her father. "But you did find me." She explained. She turned her head back towards her mother. "You came into the castle in a big horse!" Pete knew where this was going right away, and shot Myka a look. Classic stories made great bedtime stories, but only ones that wouldn't give her nightmares. It was one of those things that Pete and Myka argued about most. Her green eyes found his, and she shot him an apologetic look. 

Ginny continued. "You and Aunt Claude and Uncle Steve and Granpa Artie came out of the horse and started shooting people with your teslas." She pointed at Pete and rattled off the other names on her fingers.

"Not me?" Myka asked. Pete could hear panic in her voice.  Even he was a little concerned that Myka wasn't saving Ginny in her nightmare. 

Ginny shook her head. "No, Mumma. You had a sword!" Her grin was infectious as she looked after her mother with admiration.

Pete leaned forward, like he was telling Ginny a secret. "See, that's a good thing honey. Mumma is bad ass with a sword in her hand!" He pretended to whisper in her ear, and she giggled in his arms. 

"Pete!" Myka slapped his chest, and Ginny laughed louder. 

"Ow." He complained, rubbing his chest for the second time that day. "I'm sorry, okay? I meant to say that Mumma kicks butt with a sword." He shot Myka the same look she shot him when Ginny started to recount her dream. This time, they were even. Next time he wouldn't let her forget it though.

This time, it was Myka who wrapped the little girl into her arms. Pete's heart swelled again as he watched the two of them snuggle.  He had been right when he told Myka that Ginny would be her clone. The only part of himself he saw in his daughter was her eyes and the way she could mirror his grin. Also, they shared his love of cookies, but everything else was pure Myka.  "If we saved you, why are you scared?" Myka asked quietly. 

"You didn't save me yet. You were just trying to. Then I woke up. It was really scary, Mumma."

Myka stroked her curly hair. "I know, sweetheart. But we have you now, and you're safe. Nothing bad can happen to you here." Ginny nodded, and Pete moved closer, sandwiching her in between them, protecting her from her fears. Pete placed a kiss on her head. Soon her breathing began to slow.  Pete listened to her sleep for a while before he felt his own eyelids getting heavy. He looked past his daughter to his wife, who was holding her. Her eyes were focused on the sleeping child, a smile on her face. Pete grinned, studying her for a bit before his eyelids gave out and he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been four months of craziness, made worse by the fact that Myka was gone on maternity leave.  She didn’t actually leave, she had kept Martin in a crib in Artie’s office, and a baby monitor clipped to her waist so that she could still help out with inventory, but be close by if Martin cried.  But she hadn’t done any fieldwork, and Pete had been partnered with Steve in the meantime.  Occasionally, he was partnered with Levi Galison, the new agent who got into everyone’s heads and followed the rules to the book.  He had also read the manual cover to cover (to cover to cover), he just lacked Myka’s ability to state the sections, subsections, and lines.  He was not fun to do assignments with. 

So, when Myka came back, Pete was disappointed that Myka wouldn’t be partnered with him, but with Levi for that particular mission.  They were going to an auction to get a prop gun used by Christopher Meloni on Law and Order SVU.  It made the owner extremely angry, much like the character played by Meloni.  And Pete _really_ wanted to go artifact hunting with Myka again. 

As they left for their mission, Pete stayed behind, sitting in Artie’s office with Claudia.  She didn’t kiss him goodbye, she was really strict about showing affection at work, and instead just flashed him an uncertain smile and small wave as she left through the umbilicus doors.  Pete held his hand out towards the door, pouting like a child.  “Myka is my partner! Why does she get to go on a mission with the new guy?” he whined quietly, trying not to awaken the sleeping baby that was fifteen feet away from him. 

Claudia turned away from the computer to face Pete.  “Listen, kid.” She started with a sigh, “Who does Levi remind you of?”

Pete sighed.  “Myka, when we first started.  But not like Myka now.”

Claudia pointed at Pete, placing her other finger on her nose.   “Exactly.” She grinned.  “Who better to show him the ropes than the person who used to be just like him?” She turned back to her computer, tapping away at the keys, typing faster than Pete ever could.  “There is a method to my madness, Pete.  Or at least, I like to think there is.”  He shook his head, and picked up the baby monitor, deciding to work on some inventory until he was needed for a ping.

Except it was a slow day, so Pete wasn’t needed.  He left early, Martin in tow, to meet Ginny at the bus stop, and to work on her reading with her.  He played tickle monster, hide and seek, and changed many diapers.  He fed Ginny and tucked her in to bed, leaving Martin with Abigail while he read her a bedtime story.  He then laid a sleeping Martin in his bassinet, taking the baby monitor with him while he caught up on paperwork and waited for his wife to return. 

He was wrapped up in work when she pounced on him, hugging him tightly and whispering apologies in his ears.  He wasn’t expecting it, but enjoyed the embrace, squeezing her tightly, and reassuring her that she wasn’t that bad anymore.  She pulled away and flashed a small smile in his direction.  Pete could tell that she wasn’t entirely convinced, so he squeezed her hand one more time reassuringly.  She grabbed her laptop on the coffee table, sitting next to him on the couch and working on her own paperwork.  But the cries from the baby monitor interrupted them both. 

Pete picked up the monitor.  “I’ll get him.  You stay here.” He said, putting his computer down and bolting upstairs.  The youngest child was screaming, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth opened wide.  Pete picked up his son and rocked him, shushing and patting his bottom.  “Hey buddy! What can I do to help you out, huh?”  Martin quieted at the sound of his father’s voice.  Pete lifted the baby close and pulled his diaper away from his body, and crinkled his nose at the stench.  “Ugh! Martin Duncan Lattimer, could you smell any worse?” He stopped.  If he had learned anything from Ginny, it was to _not_ ask questions like those.  He laid the baby down on the change table, changing him expertly and quickly.  He picked Martin up, cradling him gently, and watched as his eyelids closed again.

Pete was tucking Martin in to the bassinet when Myka came in to the room, closing the door behind her quietly.  She silently changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. Pete climbed in behind her and wrapped his arms around her.  She was asleep in minutes.  He listened to her breathe, calm and slow, and brushed the curls out of her face so he could watch her facial expressions.  She made the best facial expressions when she was asleep, expressions that conveyed pure joy.  Pete waited to see one before he closed his own eyes, relaxing until sleep overcame him. 

He awoke when he felt her move in his arms, rolling herself towards the bassinet, where Martin was whimpering.  He tightened his grip on his wife, whispering in her ear.  "Stay in bed, it's my turn.”  He placed a kiss on the top of her head and rolling out of bed himself.  He heard the low rumble of a storm in the distance, along with the steady sound of rainfall on the roof above him, and wondered how long it had been raining. 

He got to the bassinet, and gazed down at their son.  Martin’s eyes were still closed, like he didn’t want to be awake. Pete shared that sentiment.  He rubbed his own eyes before lifting the four month old.  “Hey, buddy!” he crooned, watching a small smile appear on the infant’s face.  Martin was trickier in his looks, as he didn’t really look exactly like either of his parents.  In fact, he was a really good mix between the two.  The smile he had just flashed reminded Pete of himself in so many ways, but sometimes he made expressions that just looked like Myka.  It was interesting to watch. 

He lifted the boy, sniffing his diaper.  Nothing.  Just to be sure, he held Martin against his chest, pulling the diaper away from his body and looking, checking for any hidden nuggets.  Still nothing. _This is a change from earlier._ He looked towards Myka, shaking his head.  “He doesn’t have to be changed. 

Just then, he heard a very loud thunderclap at the exact time that he saw a bright flash of light.  The lightning strike must have been close, and he wondered if that was what woke up the infant. 

Myka smiled in Pete’s direction. "I'm sure he is hungry, and our bed is about to get very crowded." She pointed to the door, and held up three fingers, silently counting down. Three, two, one. She pointed.

As she pointed, Pete heard a knock at the door.  “You’re good.” He told her, impressed, and she grinned widely at the compliment.  He opened the door, revealing their five year old daughter, who was rubbing her eyes.  Pete made a shushing sound to her, making sure she knew that Martin was still asleep, or trying to sleep. 

“The thunder woke me up.” Her voice hitched, and Pete felt like his heart was breaking in two. 

Myka nodded. "Yeah, I think it woke Martin up too." She acknowledged softly.  She beckoned Ginny forward.  Another thunderclap sounded, and Ginny bum rushed the bed, racing towards Myka’s outstretched arms.  Myka lifted the girl and held her close, Ginny’s head buried in Myka’s neck, her arms wrapped around her mother like a vice.  Pete knew how much she hated loud noises, and wasn’t really surprised to see her seek out comfort in their bed.  Myka stroked the girl’s hair softly, slowly rocking her back and forth.  “Can I give you to Daddy?” At the suggestion that she let go, Ginny held on tighter to her mother. "Daddy can snuggle you too, and that way, I can feed Martin. Does that sound like a good plan?" Myka explained. 

Pete knew he would have to move quickly.  Ginny released herself from Myka’s neck, and Pete handed her the whimpering infant.  He climbed into his side of the bed quickly, immediately wrapping his daughter in a bear hug, snuggling her close.  He turned so that they could see Myka and Martin, nestling their children in a protective bubble between them.  He heard another Clap of thunder, and felt Ginny stiffen in his arms.  He wrapped her harder in his embrace, holding her close, protecting her. 

"When I grow up, will I be as brave as you, and not be afraid of thunderstorms?" Ginny asked after she had relaxed a bit.

"Maybe. Or maybe you just don't like loud noises, and that is okay. It doesn't mean you are not brave." Myka answered, reaching over and stroking the little girl’s wild curls.  "Can I tell you a secret?" Myka whispered, positioning herself closer to her daughter.  Pete felt Ginny wiggle forward in his arms and loosened his grip on her.  "I am afraid of anything with tentacles." Pete watched the look on her face and held back a laugh.  He could see her exerting every effort not to shudder.  He was tempted to say “tentacles” over and over a few times to watch her response.  It drove her crazy, and made him laugh, but he figured now was not the time to freak out his wife. 

Instead, he decided to reinforce the lesson she was trying to teach.  "And I hate rats. Those things are nasty!" He chimed in, catching the look of appreciation Myka had shot him from her side of the bed.

"See, everyone is afraid of something." Myka smiled warmly at the girl. "I just happen to love thunderstorms." She stated bluntly.

Pete felt Ginny reel back towards him with that declaration. "How can you love thunderstorms, Mom? They are so scary!"

Myka laughed. "Well, I always liked them, I thought they were pretty." She shot a look at Pete. "And then, when Daddy and I first started dating, he took me outside to look at the stars, like he does with you. Except, a thunderstorm started instead." Pete shook his head, thinking of that first date that had gone terribly wrong. 

_They had kissed, and each had told the other that they loved them. But work was crazy, despite the warehouse getting ready to move, and Pete hadn't had the chance to take Myka on a proper date. She was curled up on the couch, a worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird open in her hands. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and a few curls made their way out of the band. He stood by the doorway for a moment just watching her, a quilt draped over his arm, committing the sight before him to memory._

_She must have sensed him watching. "Take a picture, it will last longer." Her mouth smirked, but her eyes never left the page._

_He moved towards her, grinning. "Look at the stars with me, Myka?" He asked, extending a hand, not caring how corny it sounded._

_She looked up, her green eyes meeting his brown, a mischievous smile on her face. "Could you sound any more like the girl in this relationship?"_

_Pete rolled his eyes. "Come on, Myka! It looks awesome! Plus, I can show you constellations, and with your photographic memory, soon you'll be correcting me on their names!"_

_She closed the book, moving her feet from the couch to the floor, and looking up at him. "Pete, it's cloudy. It's probably going to rain." She complained._

_He shook his head, a grin stretching on his face. "When it's cloudy it's more beautiful!" He raised his hands dramatically to the ceiling, pretending he was gazing at the night sky. "You really have to look to see anything, which makes it so mysterious. And also somewhat eerie, but in a beautiful way!" He reached his hand out to her. "Ophelia pray tell, willest thou joineth me?" He knew that sounded cornier than the original question._

_Her grin was infectious. She put the book down on the coffee table, and joined her hand with his. He practically ran to the back door, pulling her behind him recklessly. He heard her bump in to the dining room table while they stumbled around in the dark. He turned. "Sorry!" He said to her shadowy figure. He felt heat rise to his cheeks. First dates were supposed to be awkward, not dangerous! He proceeded slower as he led her outside, laying out the quilt, and laying on his back._

_Myka joined him hesitantly, but eventually settled with her head on his shoulder. Pete looked up at the sky. He hated to admit when Myka was right, but Myka had been right, it was too cloudy to see the sky.  But she humored him, looking up at it anyway. She snuggled closer. "This is beautiful." He heard her say._

_He smiled. "Even without the stars?"_

_She turned, so that her arm wrapped around his torso, squeezing him tightly. She placed a soft kiss on his chin. "Yes." She answered. They stayed like that for a while, just silent. Sometimes they looked at the dark sky, and sometimes, they just closed their eyes. Pete thought they would fall asleep out there, and was okay with the thought, the sky up above them, snuggled close to the woman that he loves._

_He was perfectly okay with it until he felt a raindrop fall in the middle of his forehead. His eyes snapped open. He waited, maybe it was a fluke._

_"Peeete?" Myka's voice trailed off as she sat up. "Did you feel rain?"_

_He shrugged. "Maybe? I was afraid to say. Didn’t want to jinx it." As soon as he finished his sentence, the sky opened up, pouring water down on the two of them._

_"Pete! I'm going to kill you!" Myka screamed as she ran toward the Bed and Breakfast. He picked up the quilt, dragging it behind him as he followed her. He heard the sky crash above him, and saw Myka's back illuminated by a flash of lightning.  He practically ran into her when going through the back door._

_"Shit." He tossed the soaked quilt down on the ground, and pulled the front of his soaked shirt away from his chest. "I'm so sorry, Mykes."_

_That's when he realized she was laughing. Her arms outstretched, looking down at her newly soaked body. "This is the strangest first date I have ever had!" She laughed, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss. Pete relaxed. She pulled away, grabbing chairs and pulling them toward the window. "I mean, I guess it's to be expected, right? I mean, nothing has ever been simple for us." She sat in the one on the left, turning to look at him, and patting the seat next to her. "Are you joining me Mr. Lattimer?"_

_He was soaked, his shirt clung to him, and his pants would chafe, but the idea of sitting, watching the storm was way more appealing than the idea of dry clothes. He sat in the chair on the right, and she hooked her arms around his left bicep and rested her head on his shoulder. They watched a few lightning strikes. "It reminds me of fireworks." She mused softly._

_Pete nodded, kissing the top of her head. "Yeah. Fireworks."_

"So now, when there are thunderstorms, I think of Daddy, and that makes me really happy." Myka’s voice jolted Pete back to the present.  He flashed her a grin over Ginny’s head, delighting in the smile that stretched across her face in return.  “So that is why I love thunderstorms.” She finished.

Ginny yawned, and nestled into Pete’s chest. “Thunderstorms make you think of Daddy, so you like them. Maybe I need to think of thunderstorms and you and Daddy, and maybe they won't be scary anymore."

Myka smiled. "I think that is a brilliant idea, Ginny." She praised the young girl. Soon, Pete heard the sound of tiny snores coming from his arms.  Martin was fast asleep against Myka.  Myka kissed the top of his head gingerly, and looked over at Pete.

He nodded his head toward their two sleeping children. "We need a bigger bed." He whispered.

"Shut up and try to get some sleep, Pete." She answered, a smile on her lips.  It was sound advice, soon the five year old would take up almost all of the bed. 

He smiled at her. "Sleep well my Ophelia. I love you.”

She always seemed to turn to mush when he called her that. Her smile was exactly what he liked to see before he fell asleep.  "I love you too, Pete." She answered, closing her eyes and nestling her head near Martin’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I want to go on that date. That date is so freaking cute.


	4. Chapter 4

"Not Ginny again." He heard his wife curse as she ran from the room. Pete was amazed, they had both been up all night, dealing with whatever bug Ginny had brought home from school. He had never seen someone so sick move that fast. But that was exactly why he admired Myka so much, when it came to her children, she put her own crappy mood aside to rush to their aid. 

Pete rolled over to look at the clock. It was six, too early to function. He had hoped that Ginny would make it through the night without another incident, and was disappointed to hear the retching coming from his children's room. He thought about getting up to help, but before he could move, he saw the door open slowly. 

Martin came through the door, wiping tears from his eyes. Pete was surprised, he expected to see his daughter there instead, as Martin usually skipped whatever bug was moving around the Bed and Breakfast. "Hey buddy." Pete crooned to the sandy haired four year old. "What happened?" 

Martin climbed into the bed, snuggling close to Pete. "Ginny made me sick, Dad."

Pete nodded, stroking his son's hair, feeling the warmth from his tiny body. "I know, Martin. Mom and I have been sick all night long." He answered. He was starting to feel it taking a toll on him, as he fought to stay awake. Being sick was tiring. 

Martin turned so his back was against Pete's chest. "Mom said to come lay down with you." Pete could tell from his breathing that he was almost asleep. Pete wrapped his arm around the tiny body, hugging him close. He heard the boy begin to snore. Pete relaxed his body, and fell asleep himself. 

The sleep was restless. He woke for a minute when Myka was on the phone, again when she hopped into bed, and again still with every tiny movement Martin made in his arms. So when the farnsworth buzzed, Pete opened his eyes, knowing that he didn't really stand a chance to get any rest as it stood now. 

Martin had his elbow dug into Pete's stomach as he hoisted himself up to see the farnsworth that hadn't been opened yet, resting in Myka's hand. She opened it carefully, pressing the dial that brought it to life. 

"I'm not coming in today." Pete heard his grumpy sounding boss say on the other end, not waiting for a greeting from Myka. 

She smiled back at him. "That's fine, neither are we." She panned the farnsworth over the bed so that Pete could see his boss's face clearly. Pete waved awkwardly at the older man. 

"Oh, hi Marty." Pete could hear his gruff voice soften coupled with the smile on the older man's face, using the special nickname for Martin that only he got the honor of using. 

Martin waved at the farnsworth, his hand limp from exhaustion. "Hi Granpa Artie. Ginny got me sick."

Artie's head bobbed up and down. "Me too buddy. So I guess that means Claudia is in charge." 

Pete heard the hitch in his voice, as did Myka, who pulled the farnsworth away from her husband so she could see the screen. "Artie, she'll be fine. You know that. It's been ten years since she was that kid she used to be. She knows more about the warehouse than all of us combined at this point." Pete watched her talk to their boss, listening to her echo the words he would tell her anytime they had to leave the kids overnight, and he found it amusing that Artie babied the warehouse that much. 

"I know. I know that, I just... I haven't missed a day in twenty years." Pete watched Myka nod at that statement, her wild curls bouncing as her head bobbed up and down. Pete saw Myka with that same dedication to the warehouse, always there even when she probably shouldn't be. He admired that about his wife and Artie, wishing that he had half of their dedication. Not that he didn't care, he just wished sometimes they could go a day without a Ping.

"Artie, you do realize she is practically your boss, right?" He asked toward the farnsworth, unable to see Artie's face. Myka laughed. As sick as they were, that laugh made Pete smile. It burst from her chest like she had been waiting for the perfect joke to use it for. Pete stroked her curls in response. 

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Artie answered, not sounding convinced. Pete didn't understand the big deal, Claude, Levi, and Steve were more than equipped to handle anything the world threw at them. 

Martin removed his elbow from Pete's abdomen so that he could climb on top of Myka, inching forward to see Artie's face. "Granpa Artie! If you feel better later today, can you come over and play piano with me?" 

Pete loved that Artie and Martin bonded over the piano. Yes, Pete could play, but he wasn't nearly as good as Artie, and he couldn't compose anything to save his life. The piece he had tried to write for Myka hadn't turned out quite the way he wanted it to, and he had scrapped it before she had the chance to see it.

Pete could hear the warmth in the older man's voice. "That depends on how you are feeling, Marty. But if not today, definitely tomorrow." Martin laid back against Pete's chest, not really happy with the answer he had received. Pete made a mental note to ask him to play later regardless of whether or not Artie came back later.  "Feel better guys." At that, the farnsworth flicked off. 

Myka dropped the farnsworth on her nightstand and laid against her pillow, her eyes closing. She looked as exhausted as Pete felt. Martin left his father and snuggled close to his mother, laying his head on her chest. Pete didn't feel jealousy at his son’s preference. In all honesty, Ginny had turned out to be a total daddy's girl, and Martin preferred the company of his mother. Myka kissed the top of his sandy head. "How are you feeling?" She crooned, running her fingers through his hair. 

Martin shrugged against her body. "Sick." He answered bluntly. He turned to face Pete, his green eyes exploring his father's face. "Can Granpa Artie come play piano later?" He asked. 

Pete tousled his son's hair. "We'll see." He felt a yawn escape his lips, and stretched his arms above his head. "I'm still really tired." 

"I'm tired too." He heard the little voice next to him respond. He rolled toward his wife and son in the center of the bed. 

Myka laughed again, more quietly, but still beautiful. "I would still be asleep if I didn't keep getting woken up!" She wrapped Martin in a tight embrace. "I vote we go back to sleep." She whispered, her eyes closing. Pete could still see a smile on her face, despite the exhaustion. 

Pete reached out and started playing with her curls. He couldn't help it, he loved them. They were as wild as her personality. He watched the smile on her face grow bigger. "Have I ever told you how much I love your brilliant ideas?" He jokingly asked, his own eyes closing. 

"Clearly not enough." She answered. Pete fell asleep, one hand wrapped in her curls, one hand around his son's arm, almost forgetting about the nausea he felt earlier.  



	5. Chapter 5

Pete has always hated funerals.  In a way, they all led him to think of his father, so he tended to avoid them.  This time, it was impossible to avoid.  Artie had been taken from them too soon, and another hole had been ripped into his heart.  The last four days have been a blur of comforting his children and crying into Myka’s hair.  He looked around and wondered how she had pulled this off so quickly and so well. 

He watched her, kneeling behind their son, who was crying softly to himself, and was struck with a feeling of admiration.  He has always admired his wife, and all the amazing things she manages to pull off.  And he loves how gentle she can be with her children, putting their feelings ahead of her own, allowing them to lean on her as they need her.  _Today she will crash.  And it won’t be pretty._

He felt a hand on the small of his back, and turned around, meeting the eyes of Vanessa.  Her blonde hair was pulled back, and she wore a red shirt and black blazer, looking professional as always.  He immediately wrapped the older woman in a hug, listening to her sniffle in his ear.  He rubbed her back.  “It’s nice to see you.” He said to her.  He left out the part about the bad circumstances, he always hated that part. 

She pulled away and nodded back at him.  “Same to you.” She glanced around the room.  “This place looks great.”

Pete nodded and grinned.  “Yeah, Myka does some great work.  I don’t know where she found the time.” He glanced over at his wife, who looked deep in conversation with their nine year old. 

Vanessa pointed at the young boy.  “Is that Martin?” she asked, a small smile on her face. When Pete nodded, she continued.  “My god he is big! I haven’t seen him since the day he was born.” Her face fell, as did Pete’s.  He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since anyone had seen Vanessa.  She started to search the room again.  “What about Imogen? She has to be around twelve now.”

Pete found his daughter quickly, sitting in a chair next to Claudia, her hair straightened and a bracelet on her wrist.  He pointed to her. “Ginny is sitting next to Claude, she’s thirteen.” He explained. 

“She looks like Myka.” Vanessa observed. 

Pete nodded.  “Spitting image.  If she didn’t have my eyes, I would ask Myka if she even needed my DNA to contribute.” He joked.  He watched Martin walk slowly across the room, heading towards Levi’s little girls.  He was glad Myka had gotten him to do something other than cry for a moment.  Ginny had moved over to Myka quickly, throwing her arms around her Mother’s neck. 

Vanessa smiled.  “Well, she is growing up to be a beautiful young lady. And Martin is a handsome young man.  You two must be proud.”

Pete nodded and smiled back.  He loved his family, it was better than he had ever expected it to be.  “Yeah, we are very proud of them.” He answered softly.  Myka was rocking their daughter slowly in her arms, so Pete turned back to Vanessa.  “If you would excuse my rudeness, my girls need me.”

She glanced over his shoulder at the two women standing in front of the urn.  “Of course.  Go be with them.” She hugged him once more, quickly, before Pete made his way over to his wife and daughter.  He wordlessly wrapped his arms around both of them, feeling his daughter shake with sobs. 

Ginny shifted, leaving Myka’s embrace, and wrapping her arms around Pete’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder.  Pete wrapped his arms around Ginny’s small frame.  While her arms were wrapped around him, he wrapped his around her waist and squeezed, lifting her off of her feet.  When he did that in public, she usually rolled her brown eyes at him.  Today, it made her laugh a bit.  Pete relaxed as she smiled, he didn’t want to see her cry anymore.  He glanced over at Myka, who was talking to Levi, and over to Martin, who was playing quietly with Kiera and Ashley. 

Pete walked over to the chairs, still holding tightly on to his teenage daughter, and sat down, pulling Ginny into his lap.  “How are you doing, baby girl?” he asked her. 

She shook her head.  “Not good.  I mean, who will play chess with me, or help me with my homework, or tell me the real stories behind all the Disney fairytales?”

Pete wiped the tears from his little girl’s eyes.  “Well, Aunt Claude is pretty good at chess, she’s even beat Artie a few times.  I can always help you with your homework, and Mom knows just about every story known to man.” He answered slowly.  He didn’t know who he was kidding, none of this was the same as Artie.  Artie had a special way of storytelling with them, and a special way of teaching that still managed to challenge his children, his special children who had inherited Myka’s photographic memory. 

Ginny sighed.  “I guess.  It just won’t be the same without Granpa Artie.” She answered, her voice hitching. 

Pete nodded.  “I know, baby.  But you are lucky to have had that experience with him.  And he will always be with you in your heart.”  Artie would be in everyone’s hearts.  He was the one who really advocated for this family that they had grown to become.  At first, Pete had worried that it may fall apart, but if these last few days were any indication, it was destined to become stronger than ever. 

Ginny sat in the seat on his left as Myka joined them, sitting on his right.  Martin sat next to Ginny quietly, and rested his head on her shoulder.  As the services started, Pete tuned out.  Claudia delivered a eulogy that brought the room to tears.  She called Artie a hero, talking about how he saved her brother, and thus, saved her.  She talked all about how Artie was the only father figure she could remember, and how she would always love him for that.  And how much she hated the fact that he would never meet her eventual children, if she ever found someone to settle down with.  She looked longingly toward Pete and Myka at that point, giving them a small smile. She looked at Vanessa as she talked about not regretting what hadn’t happened, but remembering everything that had.  When the picture slideshow started is when Myka lost it. 

Watching the pictures pass of his life was difficult, but it became harder when they got to the most recent ones, the ones of his life with them.  There were numerous selfies that Claudia had made him pose for, pictures of him and Martin together at the piano, Pictures of him bent over a book with Ginny.  It was the first time Pete had seen tears fall from Myka’s eyes.  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and she coiled into his chest, sobbing quietly.  Pete felt selfish.  The past four days, she had been doing this for him, and his children, but he hadn’t been there for her.  That changed today.  He held her for the remainder of the service, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, anything he could do to be comforting. 

The reception was almost fun.  He enjoyed sitting at the table with his family, swapping stories about Artie, listening to Claudia’s spot on impression, and just enjoying each other’s company.   The regents had taken over artifact hunting for a bit so that they could all have time off if they needed it, so it was interesting to see how everyone interacted without the stress of work on their shoulders. 

                Soon, it was time to go.  Pete gathered the kids, and a dazed looking Myka, and headed toward the car.  Myka stared ahead the whole trip, her eyes glazed over and unwavering, her brow creased in the center of her face.  Pete squeezed her hand so she would look over at him.  He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“I’ll tell you later.” She replied to his unasked question.  He was happy that they got each other enough to ask each other questions telepathically.  It must just come with the territory of being married for almost fifteen years.  He nodded and looked ahead as they drove to the Bed and Breakfast. 

Once home, Ginny and Martin ran upstairs to change into more comfortable clothing.  Myka sat down at the table, and Pete could practically see the gears turning in her head.  He sat down across from her.  “What’s up?” he asked, grabbing on to her hands. 

“Mrs. Frederick offered me Artie’s job.” She answered bluntly. 

Pete wasn’t surprised.  She was the best person for the job, she knew the handbook inside and out, and had a different connection with the warehouse than he did.  He nodded.  “Okay, that sounds great.  What are your thoughts?”

She sighed, her green eyes meeting his.  “I don’t really know, I mean, it would definitely challenge me in a different way, and it’s an amazing offer, and I’m sure it’s a raise which will be great in the long run, but…” her voice trailed off. 

Pete squeezed her hands a little harder.  “But what? It seems like an amazing opportunity for you.”

She flashed him a worried smile.  “Pete, it means that you will need a new partner.”

So she was thinking of him.  She always did now, he didn’t know why she was surprised.  But she couldn’t worry about him when this opportunity was so great. “Mykes, I’ll be fine, you know that. As long as I can come home to you at night, I don’t care who my partner is.” Yeah, it would be different, but it was better in the long run. 

She ran her thumbs over his hand.  “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Pete smiled and nodded in response.  She laughed.  “Okay.  It’s settled then, I’ll take the job.”

He leaned across the table and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.  “Sounds like a good deal to me. You'd be great at that, Mykes.” He smiled at her before jumping up from the table.   "Now, if you'll excuse me, those finger sandwiches were not nearly enough. I'm starving!" He rubbed his stomach and flashed a smile her way before rushing into the kitchen. 

Once in the kitchen, it was clearer than ever that no one had really been in their right minds.  The ingredients needed to make a good sandwich were missing, along with any leftovers.  Pete closed the fridge, disappointed, and made a mental note to do some grocery shopping.  He trudged up the stairs, his stomach still growling. 

Outside his door, he paused.  He could hear voices inside, deep in conversation.  He quickly identified the voices as his wife and daughter, deep in conversation.  "What I am about to tell you is extremely classified, okay? I only get to tell one person in the world, and I want to tell you."  Pete smiled.  Ginny was getting older, and it may be time that she knew what her parents _actually_ do for work.  He decided to listen in, and get some pointers for when Martin became his One. 

"You don't want to tell Dad?" Pete heard his daughter enquire. 

"Dad already knows, I don't have to tell him. We share this secret together, and he gets to tell one person too. Since I am telling you, he will eventually tell Martin." Pete heard Myka pause, and even he wondered where she would go next.  "It's really hard to explain. You already know that Dad and I collect artifacts, right?" He heard another pause, and guessed that Ginny was nodding. "Well, these artifacts sometimes have magical powers, and sometimes, they threaten to end the world." When said out loud, it sounded like they belonged in an asylum. _A lot of agents end up in an asylum anyway._ "Like, there was a jar from the Donner Party that froze everyone and made them really hungry." Pete could hear Myka’s stomach growl through the door.  His lips stretched into a smile when he heard his daughter laugh. 

"Bringing back memories for you?" Ginny teased.

Myka laughed. "Yeah!" Pete didn’t like to think of that day much, it scared him.  Any day that Myka almost died because of an artifact was not a day he liked to remember.  He heard her continue.  "Your Dad got bit by a guy who was affected, he thought it was a zombie, and told me that if he turned, he wanted me to take him out." As Ginny laughed, Pete smiled.  He remembered being appalled when she agreed to take him out so easily.  _“Two shots to the head, right? Pop! Pop!”_

"Typical Dad." He heard Ginny respond. "Zombies are not real."  Pete wanted to go in right there.  Open the door, and tackle her to the bed and tickle her until she took that back.  His arm was on the door, he was poised to pounce, when he realized that it would be known that he was listening the entire time.  He backed down, but made sure to remember the comment for later. 

"I know. And anyway, he wasn't affected, I was. And he had to work hard to find out what it was that was affecting everybody. As I'm sure you know, the Donner Party didn't end well."  Myka explained, knowing full well that Ginny knew what happened during the Donner Party. 

"People could have died." Ginny answered.

"Yeah. But Dad saved me." She answered. 

After a brief pause, Myka continued.   "Artie was our boss, and he saved the world on more than one occasion. He helped us save it. He saved Claudia, and Claudia's brother. He went through a lot, and got very little thanks. He was a hero." Pete felt his own tears begin to well up again, just when he thought he couldn’t cry anymore.  Truthfully, Artie was more than just their boss, he was a member of their family.  As he fought his own tears, he could hear the sniffles on the other side of the door.  Now he was in an awkward position.  He didn’t want them to know he had been listening, but he wanted to comfort them. 

He was relieved when Martin came up to them, dressed in Angry Bird pajamas that were slightly too small for him.  Usually they would tell him to change, but tonight, he just wanted his son to be happy, and if too small angry bird pajamas made him happy, then he could wear them.  Martin hugged his father from behind.  Pete touched the hands that were clasped in front of his throat.  “I think Mom and Ginny need some cheering up, want to help me?”

Martin nodded silently.  Pete stood up, and pushed the door open slowly.  They rushed to the bed, each of them wrapping their arms around the two women on the bed, Ginny in her pajamas, Myka still in her black dress.  And they stayed like this for a while, all holding each other up, all there for one another.

"Mom?" Ginny's voice broke the silence, and her brown eyes explored her mother's face. "Will you take me to see it one day soon? The Warehouse?"

Pete wondered if a sense of adventure was something that you were born with, a gene you could pass on.  It had been said previously that his mother raised him for the warehouse, whether she intended to or not.  He wondered if he and Myka had done the same with their children.  Myka smiled softly, and tenderly rubbed Ginny's cheek with her thumb. "Of course, baby. Of course."

 


	6. Chapter 6

Pete loved their family time that they shared each Sunday.  They gathered on the bed, watching football or movies, eating popcorn, and just hanging out. This week, he and Ginny were cheering for the Browns while they demolished the Steelers, both of them laying on their stomachs, their feet propped up on pillows.  Myka was working, as per usual, and Martin had borrowed one of her classics, and was settling in to read.  He and Ginny wrestled over the popcorn bowl, laughing at each other during the commercial breaks. 

The browns were in the middle of a great play, driving the ball from the Steeler’s 35 to their own 40, when Pete heard his Daughter’s voice.  "How do you know when you are in love?"  She was asking Myka, and had turned her head to look at her mother.  Pete hadn’t noticed her shift positions.  She was now sitting cross legged on the bed, her head facing away from him and the television.  Martin had closed the book and placed it in his lap. 

A small smile stretched across Myka’s face.  “You just do.” She shrugged, and Pete had to hold back a laugh.  That hadn’t exactly been the case for them. "It was harder for me, because I am so analytical. I didn't let myself feel anything because I was thinking too much."  Pete thought back on that time before they dated, and he felt the same way about his attitude as well.  He wasn’t really sure of his own feelings until they were pointed out to him.  But he also knew that his life was better with Myka in it, and that her laugh took his breath away.  That and the fact that she was stunningly beautiful, something she had unfortunately passed on to their gorgeous sixteen year old daughter. 

"I knew I was in love with your mother all along, I just never admitted it."  Pete added, shifting so that he was laying on his left side, his head propped up on his arm.  "She would just smile, and the world seemed to get brighter. Her smile made my day better, and I found myself trying to make her smile every chance I got." And he really tried, crude and immature jokes and all. 

Ginny carefully placed a stray curl behind her ear.  "Because, every time I talk to this one person, my stomach flutters. And I love their jokes, they always make me laugh, even the cheesy ones. And I feel warm all over when I think of this person or when I am with them and I just don't know what to think. All those love songs finally make sense, and I've never felt this with the guys I've dated before." Pete could feel his heart racing as she talked.  She was too young for all this, he was sure of it.  And her heart would get broken for sure, so she really didn’t need that, not at this young age.  Ginny gazed off into the distance, her head in her hands. 

"I don't know, honey. It sounds like love." Myka answered honestly, reaching out to stroke her daughter’s hair reassuringly. 

Ginny looked back towards Myka.  "What does it mean if I feel that way about a girl?" 

So that was why she seemed so nervous.  She wasn’t just talking about love, she was coming out.  Pete admired the bravery his daughter displayed, proudly showing that she was different, and of course there was nothing wrong with that. 

"So you like girls.  What’s the big deal?" Myka answered, clearing her face of curls and flashing an enthusiastic grin at the nervous teen.  Pete smiled as well, placing his free hand on Ginny’s knee and rubbing his thumb back and forth over the denim.

 Ginny breathed out for what seemed like forever.  Pete didn’t know she had been holding her breath like that.  "Because, I have never really been attracted this way to guys, but I have been to girls, and I only dated those guys because I thought I had to. And I just don't know how I feel about all of this."  Ginny laid back, exasperated, her hands above her head. 

"Alright, what I am about to tell you two, only a few people in the world know." Myka started, and Pete knew exactly where this was going.  He didn’t have personal experience with this, Myka did, and she was going to help their daughter out.  Ginny sat up again, listening attentively. "I am bi-sexual." Myka blurted.  She watched the expressions on her children’s faces before she continued. "I may have settled down with a man, but I am attracted to women too." She explained.

Pete remembers them having this conversation when they first started dating.  He always kind of knew it, from the lingering glances she had thrown at HG, to the way she fawned over Amanda.  He can still remember when he told Myka that Amanda was really hot, and her response was “Yes, Pete, I’ve met her.”  That didn’t go unmentioned later on. 

"Did you have any girlfriends?" Ginny asked. 

"Yeah.” She nodded. “Some were flings that I wrote off as a phase, or experimentation. But my sophomore year of college was my first long term relationship with a woman." He watched her blush at the memories, first love. "Her name was Alex, which made it really easy for me to talk to Mom and Dad about, as long as I didn't use gender specific pronouns. They assumed Alex was a boy." So had Pete at first, to be honest. 

"Why didn't you want to tell your parents?" Martin spoke up, suddenly curious.

Myka heaved her shoulders up and down.  "I didn't know how they would take it." She answered. "Homosexuality back then was not looked on as kindly as it is now. And we didn't have any gay family friends, so it was never something we talked about either way."  She was playing with her hands in her lap, getting more and more uncomfortable putting this all out in the open. "You guys are lucky.” She continued, looking up at Ginny.  “We talk about Aunt Helena and Uncle Steve all the time, and you have good relationships with them. You know we love them, so it's easier when you have problems like this for you to come to us. I didn't have that." Her face fell a bit, and Pete guessed she was remembering her childhood and need to please her father.  A bi-sexual daughter would not have made her life any easier. 

Ginny smiled at the mention of the brit. "Did you ever have a thing for Aunt Helena, knowing what you know about her and yourself?" 

Myka nodded. "I did actually." She smiled coyly. 

"Are you kidding, Aunt Helena could make gay men question their sexuality! Of course your mother liked her!" Pete blurted a little faster than his filter.  Thank God they all laughed.  If it wasn’t for the whole evil, take-over-the-world thing, Pete would have had a thing for her.  And Steve had told him that she was a very hot woman, so he knew his statement was at least somewhat true. 

When they stopped laughing, she continued.  "I did. I never acted on it though. And then she tried to destroy the world, and I wasn't really sure what I thought anymore." 

"Aunt Helena tried to do WHAT?" Martin screeched, and Pete and Myka laughed. Martin looked at Ginny, who shrugged, she was just as clueless. 

Pete honestly didn’t know what would have happened if Helena hadn’t used the trident.  Myka could have gone for either of them, and sometimes that thought scared him.  Sure, he would still have her as a friend, but their whole life as it is now wouldn’t exist, and he can’t imagine a different reality. 

Myka waved Martin’s question away. "That's a story for another day." She brought her knees to her chest. "The point is, she never acted on it and neither did I. I don't really know what would have happened if we did." She met Pete’s eyes with her own stunning green eyes. "Besides, your Dad makes me extremely happy, I love him very much, and Aunt Helena is happy with Giselle, and I really like the way things turned out." Pete grinned as she said it, glad that he makes her happy, and watched as she smiled back at him. She tousled Martin's hair. "Besides, without dad I wouldn't have you. And watching him with you two has made me fall deeper in love with him." That went both ways, watching Myka interact with their children had been great, an awesome surprise that he never expected.  Ginny wasn’t exactly planned, and he hadn’t wanted to push children on her because she was so career oriented.  But once she was here, and Myka realized she could have both, there really was no stopping her. 

"So, this girl that you like. Is she gay?" Myka asked the teen, stretching out her legs in front of her. 

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know." Her face fell. "What if she isn't?" 

Pete saw Myka’s eyes flicker from him to their daughter, but he was already on it.  He jumped, tackling the teen to the pillows in a giant bear hug.  Ginny giggled all the way down.  When they settled, he could feel her head turn so that she could get a good view of Myka’s face. 

Myka looked away from the teen.  "That's what sucks sometimes. Sometimes your feelings won't be reciprocated. Sometimes friendships will be lost. Sometimes, love sucks. And that goes for gay and straight alike." She looked up again, this time once again meeting his eyes. "But when it's with the right person, there is nothing better." 

Ginny nodded, taking it all in. She stared towards the tv again, still wrapped in the embrace of her father, watching the game. "Thanks." She finally said, leaning her head back against his chest

Myka grabbed her laptop from the nightstand and placed it on her lap. She opened it again and began to type, a smile on her lips. "Anytime." 


	7. Chapter 7

This day has turned out to be way worse than Pete had ever imagined it being. This was the fifth time he'd been awake, and the world seemed fuzzy, dark and empty. And although that whiskey bottle was calling his name, he was not drunk. He hadn't fallen off the wagon yet, Myka wouldn't be happy if he did.

She had looked so peaceful as she slept, a smile from the night before still stretched on her lips. He had woken up early and decided to watch her sleep. It had taken him longer than he cared to admit to realize that her chest wasn't rising with the intake of breath. He moved her to her back frantically, pressing his ear to her chest waiting for a heartbeat that never came. He had screamed for help, his voice growing week as he realized what was happening. Martin was the first one in the room, answering his father's cries, followed closely by Claudia. He didn't want Martin to see this, Martin was the last person he wanted to see her like that. But by the time they arrived, Pete was upset and confused and just rambled about her not breathing, and needing to save her, and how she couldn't actually be gone. Martin had tears in his eyes as he dragged Pete from the room by his shoulders, removing Pete from the stressful situation that was unfolding.

Pete left, reluctantly, and retreated into himself. He didn't watch as the regents removed Myka from the bedroom, a white sheet over her face. Instead he hid in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat that would comfort him, and not succeeding. What he found instead was a bottle of whiskey. He hadn't had a drink in over forty years, but it looked really appealing, calling his name. He hit it easily under his shirt, and ran for his room, ignoring the calls from his son and friends, and retreating to mourn on his own.

Mourning consisted of sobbing uncontrollably, to sleeping, to holding that whiskey bottle so close to his lips it would be easy to throw it back, and feel the burn in his throat that would remind him he was still here, without her. Every time he got close, he would think of her, think of the one person who always kept him grounded, and pull it away from his lips. She never saw him like that. Myka wouldn't want him to resort to that.

Each time he fell asleep, he saw her, her hair still wild and curly, streaked with bits of gray, revealing her older age. Her green eyes flecked with gold that sparkled every time she smiled. Her smile that stretched across her face, lighting up his world. He could hear her laugh that he could distinguish from across the room, that always sounded like it burst from her chest with surprise that she shared so freely with the world around her.  So Pete dreaded to sleep, and yet, didn't want to wake. Because when he woke, he remembered she wasn't there, and he didn't want to face that reality.

At least she was happy. He hated thinking like that. The night before, they had met Martin's girlfriend, Julie. She was beautiful, with stick straight brown hair and large blue eyes, with soft features that matched her pleasant personality. She had been excited to meet them, as they could sign, and she was deaf. Pete had been excited at the chance to use his ASL skills with someone he would see more often than his sister. They knew Martin would start bringing Julie around. He remembered teaching them all, Ginny and Martin as babies, and Myka shortly after they started dating. He was amazed at how quickly she picked it up, her photographic memory helping her along the way.

Myka and Pete talked for hours after the meeting, agreeing that Julie and Martin were a great match. Myka had pushed curls out of her face, settling down under the covers on her side of the bed. "He loves her, you can tell. He looks at her like you look at me." She flashed Pete a sheepish grin. 

Pete removed his reading glasses, turning off the light on his side of the bed, plunging them into darkness, only the moonlight from the window illuminating the room. "Well, then she is in luck, because I am head over heels in love with you, Myka Ophelia Lattimer, and I wouldn't do anything to lose you." He leaned in for a kiss, which she graciously gave up.

She settled, yawning, her head on his chest. "I love you Pete."

He kissed the top of her head. "Goodnight, my Ophelia."

Pete hadn't thought those would be his last words to her. He thought it could be worse. They could have fought, so many times he had heard of last words that were in anger. If he had known, maybe he could've said something more meaningful, something better than goodnight. 

So now it was nighttime, he woken five times to world without Myka, and held that bottle so close more times and he wanted to admit. He hadn't spoken to anyone, not Martin, not Claudia, not Abigail. Every time someone tried to come in, he waved them away or just pretended to sleep, making their offers to help ineffective. He just wanted to be alone. No one had managed enter. 

Until now. The unknown offender had ignored his desperate pleas for solitude and had entered anyway. In the darkness, I'll he could make out was the silhouette of a tall, curly haired woman, and his world brightened for just a few seconds. Maybe it had all just been a terrible dream.

"Dad? Are you okay?" The figure spoke, and he could feel his heart shattering all over again. The voice was higher pitched than Myka's, and belonged to his daughter, who looked too much like Myka for him to handle.

"No, I can't." He started, his voice breaking. He could almost feel his heart shatter as he pushed his daughter away with his words, leaving aching hole in his chest.

Ginny stopped before she reach the bed. "You can't what, Dad?"

"I can't look at you." He felt terrible, she was there for him, there to comfort him, and had probably driven all day to get here so quickly. But she reminded him of everything he had lost.

"Dad!" She shouted, ignoring him. She was over to the nightstand before Pete could blink, picking up the bottle of whiskey. "What the fuck?" Her eyes were enraged as she look to him for explanation. Before he spoke, she stormed over to the window, slamming it open and hurling the bottle as far as she could. She glared again at her father, tears gathering in her eyes.

Pete shook his head at the brunette. "I didn't, I swear." He responded to her unasked question. She raised her eyebrow at him in response, not quite sold on his declaration. "I swear, Ginny, I didn't drink any of it." He told her again, unable to convey the guilt he felt at the thought of actually drinking, how close to the edge he has tottered way too many times over the last few hours. "Your mother," he started but couldn't finish. Is gone, had never seen him drunk, would never see him drunk, was gone, is beautiful, is dead, is gone. So many ways he can complete that sentence.

Ginny's eyes softened as relief flooded her brown eyes. She sank down next to him on the bed. She wrapped him in a fierce hug, pinning him to the bed, her face buried in his chest. He could feel her shaking with sobs, her tears wetting his chest. "Don't scare me like that." She sobbed her voice breaking. "I already lost Mom today, I don't want to lose you too."

He could feel his heart breaking again. Yes he had lost his wife, the love of his life, but his kids lost their mother. And he had been so selfish, keeping to himself, and almost falling off the wagon, that he hadn't been there for either one of his children. He hadn't seen Martin since that morning, and if Ginny hadn't barged her way in, he would've ignored her too. He pulled his sobbing daughter deeper into his chest, squeezing hard, and feeling her embrace him back. "I'm sorry, baby girl" he whispered to his grown child, kissing her wild curls that reminded him so much of her mother. He realized something, lying there with her. That his children were the best way for Myka's spirit to remain alive. He sent a silent prayer up to his wife, to wherever she was watching from, telling her he would do better for the kids’ sake, and that he loved her. He ran his hand down the back of Ginny's head, running his fingers through her curls. "I'm sorry. But I promise, I'm not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters sucked to write and I am drained. I did something different this time. I wrote the one from Pete's point of view first before I wrote the Late Night ending. I hope everyone enjoyed the ride, and don't hate me for the bitter ending. Please check out Late Night, it would make me very happy. Thanks for following this through to the end with me.


End file.
